Chapter 15

Delilah woke, stretched, then frowned. It was still dark outside, but she knew her night was over when the urgency to contact Samson returned. It had been several days since her encounter with Marc, and Samson hadn't been in the restaurant since. It wasn't unusual for him to not be there for several days in a row, but she needed to see with her own eyes that he was okay.

"Come on Samson. Have dinner tonight."

She'd tried telling herself she hadn't done anything wrong. Letting Marc know about Samson's weakness wasn't breaking his trust. He'd never told her the information was in confidence. But the guilt continued to eat away at her.

After pacing her living room for several minutes, she decided she didn't need to be the only one losing sleep over this. She called Luca.

"D, what's up?" Luca's voice was groggy from sleep. "Is something wrong?"

"Has Marc said anything about Samson?"

"That's what you're ringing me about this early? To check on Samson? Do you know what time it is?"

"If he's hurt, it's my fault and yours."

"I thought you couldn't stand the guy."

"This has nothing to do with my feelings for him. I'm potentially responsible for a man being injured."

"Does that mean you're admitting you like him?"

"You're changing the subject."

"I'm sure he's fine. Marc said he wouldn't hurt him."

"He hasn't been to the restaurant in days."

"And?"

"Marc didn't tell you anything about what he intended to do to him?"

"No. I don't know anything about it, but if Marc said he wouldn't hurt him, then I believe him."

"Because his word is so trustworthy?"

"Hey, you're the one who gave him the information."

"Yeah, to save your butt."

"And I appreciate it. Now go back to sleep."

"I can't."

"Then let me go back to sleep."

"Fine." Delilah hung up and leaned against the kitchen counter.

She'd left California for a fresh start, and now here she was falling further back than she'd been before. At least in San Diego, she hadn't been responsible for what had happened. Here, she may have been the cause of a man's life being ruined.

But that wasn't all. She couldn't ignore that she felt more than guilt. There was grief there too. She didn't want to lose him. Somehow, in all of it, she had grown to like him.

Her head collapsed between her shoulders. What was she doing to herself? She couldn't understand why her life had taken such a drastic turn in San Diego and remained on that trajectory, pushing her further into a pit.

She changed into her workout gear, making plans in her head to get out of town as soon as she could. Maybe she could outrun this thing, get out of its path, or at least get everyone that she cared about out of it.

The cold air stung her lungs as she jogged along the streets. Normally, she loved this time of the morning, when the city was quieter. Cars were already beginning to clog the roads, but with most of the shops closed, pedestrians were at a minimum. She pushed herself hard, hoping the exertion would relieve some of her tension. And while it did clear her head, her heart still ached.

After doing her usual loop, she circled back and stopped at a local café she frequented. They opened early and weren't too busy after her run.

"Can I get a bottle of water?" she said at the counter as she caught her breath.

"Sure. Anything else?"

"Not today."

She paid and took the bottle, intending to sit and stare out the window until she was ready to face the day, but when she turned toward the tables, she stopped short.

"Samson?"

He looked tired and frustrated—two looks she couldn't ever remember seeing on his face. But the relief at seeing him safe lifted a small part of her burden

"Everything okay?" she said as she neared the table.

He shrugged but didn't speak. The look he was giving her was unnerving.

"I'm surprised to see you here." She tried sounding casual, unsure if she was pulling it off.

"I bet." He leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you have a seat?"

"Uh…okay. I wasn't planning on staying long, though. I've just been for a run and wanted a water, but I've gotta get back home."

"Early plans?"

"Just some housecleaning." She was embarrassed under his intense gaze, sure he could see through to her soul, and she realized there could never be anything between them. As much as she thought that's what she wanted, the truth was, a part of her had hoped for more. But she'd ruined everything. The best thing she could do for Samson and herself was to leave town as soon as she could.

"You're looking well this morning," he said.

"Thanks?" She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "I don't feel like I look well."

"Why not? Didn't sleep well?"

"As a matter of fact, I didn't, but I'm also sweaty after my run."

He nodded.

"So," she said. "Do you usually come to this café? I only ask because I come here a lot and haven't seen you before today."

"No, I've never been before."

"Oh. Okay." She wasn't sure how to proceed. She'd never experienced this side of him before. Whatever Marc had done, it must have been drastic. "What brings you here this morning? It's early for most people."

"I know you come here. I wanted to see you."

"How do you?—"

"You told me."

"Did I?"

"Nope."

She straightened. "Okay, you're being weird. What is going on?"

"That's why I'm here. To ask you."

Her stomach tightened into a hard knot. "I don't know what you mean."

"I had an unfortunate night last night."

"Oh." At least Marc had been truthful when he said he wouldn't hurt Samson. "What happened?"

"I got a call from a Japanese gentleman who wanted to hire my services."

"That's good. Isn't it?"

"Work's work."

She couldn't read him at all. "You didn't like what he had to offer?"

"That's one way to put it. But it wasn't the job that worried me. It was what happened after."

All of her focus was on trying not to let the guilt show on her face. "Did he do something?"

"First, he offered me sak e."

"You don't like it?"

"He put something in it."

She scooted forward in her seat. "You mean he tried to poison you? But you're okay."

"It made me a bit fuzzy in the head. Like I'd drunk too much."

"You sure you didn't?"

Samson shook his head, more in disappointment than trying to convey a negative response. "I barely had any."

"Okay."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"I knew something wasn't right. I should have listened to my instincts, but I let myself like you too much. I thought what happened at the garden was real."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Who do you work for?"

"You already know that. I'm a waitress at my cousin's restaurant." She let go of the water bottle and pressed her hands into her lap to keep them from shaking.

"Is Luca mixed up in something?"

"No." She fired back, probably too fast. "He's just trying to run a business." She hated the anger that came out of her mouth. She was treating Samson the way Luca had treated her. Trying to hide behind aggression. "I'm sorry." She lowered her voice. "I care about him, and I would hate for you to go after him thinking he'd done something wrong. If anything happened to him…"

Samson's face softened. "Is he in some kind of trouble?"

"No. Nothing he can't handle."

"But there is trouble?"

"The normal struggles of running a business. That's all."

"Then explain to me why you did it. Does it have anything to do with Luca?"

"What is it you think I did?"

"I'd like you to tell me why I was drugged and then attacked with swords days after telling you I wasn't good with blades."

"You were attacked with swords?"

"I probably wouldn't have suspected you, except the situation was too well executed. An innocent meeting where my gun is taken away, and then I'm shown into a room full of swords. It's a little too convenient."

"Who has a room full of swords?"

"It was a museum at the back of the restaurant."

"Hang on. So you're suspicious of me because you drank too much sak e and then some men attacked you with the weapons that were at their disposal?"

"You think I'm being paranoid?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Then why is your face red?"

"I've been for a run. Or maybe it's because you're accusing me of something. Just because you can't hold your liquor doesn't mean I'm responsible for any predicament you get into." She was doing it again. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm being like this. I should be supportive. You've obviously come out of a scary situation."

"Scary? That's not the word for it. You're an intelligent woman. I don't think I have to explain why it looks suspicious."

She dropped her head. She desperately wanted to tell him everything. But she couldn't. It wasn't just about Luca going to prison anymore. She was now in way over her head. Both Marc and Samson were dangerous men, and she and Luca were stuck in the middle. If she told Samson about Marc, Luca's life could be in serious danger. She'd just have to ride this out.

Samson appeared shaken, but safe. Now she had to protect Luca. It wasn't like she had anything to lose with Samson. There was never anything possible between them anyway.

"You're right," she said. "I can see why it looks like I had something to do with it. And maybe I did."

"Maybe?"

"You're worried I betrayed your trust, and I guess I did." This was the closest she was brave enough to get to a confession. "I'm embarrassed to even say this, but I mentioned it to one of the other waitresses. She was gushing about you, and—I'm sorry. It was the first thing that came to mind. We were in a crowd of people, so others could have easily heard me. I'm so sorry. If I had known it would have put you at risk, I wouldn't have said anything."

"I have a lot of enemies. It wouldn't surprise me if the wrong person overheard." Samson leaned his elbows on the table. "But is that the truth?"

She nodded, hating herself for lying.

"So you don't loathe me enough to have me killed?"

"I doubt they were trying to kill you."

"You weren't there."

"No, but you're here now, and you don't look injured at all."

He pulled off his jacket and lifted his sleeve to show the bandage on his arm. The blood had soaked through a little.

"You got cut?"

"I was lucky. Whoever was behind it certainly wasn't worried about my wellbeing."

"Yeah, but are you sure they were trying to kill you?"

Samson chuckled. "I know this isn't your world, but it is mine, and I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that they wouldn't have had any qualms about slicing me to pieces."

"But you said you were bad with knives. How'd you survive if they wanted you dead?"

"I may not be great with a sword, but I'm not completely inept. And I have other skills that I was able to use to compensate. Turns out a kimono can come in handy in a pinch."

She wanted to reach for his hand but didn't. If things had gone differently, she could have been responsible for a man's death. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"That's nice to hear."

If Marc had mixed Luca up with something this dangerous, she had to find out what it was and warn Luca before it was too late.

"I know you say you have a lot of enemies," she said. "But do you have any idea who it might have been? Is there something you're involved in right now?"

"I think it's connected to my current case, yes."

"What could be so bad that they'd risk killing you to get you out of the way?"

"This wouldn't be the first job I've done where people wanted my head on a platter."

"You're saying this is a normal occurrence?"

"It's not uncommon."

"Can I ask what it is you're working on?"

"We believe there is a group stockpiling weapons."

"We?"

"I have contacts within various government organizations. Mostly it's a guy named Trevors. Agent Nathan Trevors. You saw him the other night."

"There have been a lot of nights."

"This one you'd remember. It's when I asked you to come home with me after you asked me how I was."

"Your contact was the one who upset you?"

"He didn't upset me. It was the information he brought. It had a connection to a past case."

"How was it connected?"

"That's above your pay grade, I'm afraid."

"Right. Sorry." She laughed in relief that the worst of it was behind her. "I guess I shouldn't have asked."

"It wouldn't be safe for you to know anything." They were silent for a moment. "I can't tell you how relieved I am to know you didn't… When I thought you were working against me, that was hard."

Delilah frowned but told herself it didn't matter. Everything had worked out. "I can imagine."

Samson looked at his watch. "Did you say you needed to go?"

"I—uh. No. I mean, I was going to clean. That's all."

"Can I buy you breakfast? Is it any good here?"

"Probably not the standard you're used to."

He grinned. "And what standard is that?"

"You have expensive taste, do you not?"

"More assumptions."

"You eat at Carpi. I know the prices."

"Fair enough. But I didn't grow up with money. When I was a kid, my favorite meal was ravioli out of a can."

Delilah grimaced. "I'm sure they do better than that here."

"You sure? Canned ravioli is really good."

"How about I get us menus."

He reached for her hand. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being you."

Her smile tightened when she turned away from him. It was just breakfast, and he'd never find out. Then she'd be gone, and he'd only have nice memories of her. That would be enough.